Dancing In The Bed
It’s 8:15 a.m. I’m still
Asleep when you come in the room.
The radio’s been on since five.
You modestly and unassumingly
Creep in. I slowly come alive.
My neck is slightly sore, the symptom
Of a migraine. You massage it.
Then because the body needs it
And you’re sensitive, your fragrant hand,
Like a corsage, begins to find,
Explore my spine.
There’s music in the background and,
Before we know it, there we are
Moving, dancing in the bed.
Lovely and exciting rhythms
Form our future memoir.
Up and down, the rose bedspread
Awry, we minuet and smile,
Closely dancing all the while.
And, oh, how we enjoy the time
Willingly exploited, using
Hands and even feet to prime
The other’s total health, the boozing,
Bruising done by others non-existent.
How we’ve laughed! Now I’m awake.
I feel like a griddlecake.
Or eggs and steak?
The dance in bed not inconsistent
With the need to eat,
The music’s beat
Now slow, now fast, the background broadcast
Perfect prologue to a breakfast.
Dancing In The Bed 5.5.1996
Love Relationships; Circling Round Eros;
Arlene Corwin
